Montmorency's Revenge AddIn
by Porcelain-Carrier-67
Summary: I thought the ending to the series nedded something else. So of course I added in my own Inner-Mind Theater scenario! One-shot


DISCLAIMER: I don't own the _Montmorency_ series by Eleanor Updale in any way, shape, or form. I just didn't really like the way she ended the whole thing.

OKAY, IF ANYONE HASN'T FINISHED THE SERIES, YOU MIGHT WANT TO TAB THIS STORY AND READ IT WHEN YOU _DO_ FINISH.

Yup! My brain just started getting in flurry when I read the ending. First, I was complaining: "That's _it_?! What the heck--there better be another!" Then I began to grow a mischievous grin and say, "This could work." So here's to my imagination!

"_Eleanor's sentence"_

_Thinking_

--

"_Montmorency grasped the arms of his chair, closed his eyes, and tried to feel brave."_

A sinister, yet low cackle sounded from above him. He expected more than ever to hear a shot then, but after a few seconds, when it didn't come, he grew perplexed by fear. Did it already happen? Was he imagining things? Montmorency didn't dare to look around to see. He didn't even move from his tense position.

"How pathetic you look in that position, when you once declared to kill me. The great Montmorency, avenger of Fox-Selwyn!" Malpensa chortled with sarcasm.

"Why are you waiting?" Montmorency managed to utter.

"This is amusing. This is _fun_. Aren't you having fun? _Aren't you_?!"

The gun suddenly smacked against his skull, causing rivets of pain and slight nausea to pound against his senses, mingling with the torrent of fear and begging wants running across his mind.

_Tom… Mary… Frank… Everyone… I don't want to lose what I just got! I don't want to leave you all! I'm not ready to see George again--I'm not!_

The revolver clicked quietly behind him, out of his direct vision. "But all fun must come to an end, correct, _Montmorency_?" His name slid from Malpensa's lips like something that he wished to spit out.

Montmorency didn't respond, despite the possibility of another strike against his head. Something warm fell onto his shoulders. He knew the substance to be blood, but imagined it as his late friend's hand resting on his shoulder in warning.

"Goodbye, Montmorency," Malpensa sighed, as if happy. As if his journey for justice was finally over.

A shot echoed down the hallway. Montmorency opened his eyes, trembling with what?--fear, recoil, acceptance? But there was so more pain. Nothing inside him to indicate that he was no longer living. In fact, there was still drips spreading on his shoulder, not streams and mess. And he was still conscious.

"Stay away from Montmorency. Either way, this next shot will fail to miss its acquired target."

Montmorency flicked his gaze over to the now-silent Frank, holding a smoldering gun in one hand, standing as straight as if he had never fired. He marveled momentarily at his control, when this must have been one of his first times handling one. Frank's eyes were blazing with anger; his body quivering with the sheen intensity of emotions he was experiencing.

"Frank…" Montmorency trailed off, falling out of his chair, to his knees. He managed to scramble away towards the younger man's empowering figure.

Malpensa was able to stand, holding on to his injured shoulder. Perhaps Frank had been aiming for his arm, as punishment for the scarring done to his, as well as to immobile it? Frank's face was cold now, his body taut with the readiness to shoot.

Malpensa struggled to get his weak hand around the gun, his fingers unfamiliar with the placement. His dominant hand lay useless and bleeding heavily against his body. He fired wide and hit the door's molding, a foot or so from Frank's head. The jolt caused him to fly backwards, onto his rear. Though facing his death, his eyes were still as wild as ever.

"You may kill me, but I will live! I will kill you and Montmorency and your whole family!" he laughed, rocking back and forth. "You will all die by my hand! I will not rest!"

"I'm considering deeply whether you should die by my hand or leave you to the hands of all the people you've wronged--help figure out which government would be an appropriate assassin for you. Though, admittedly, that one shot felt good. I'll decide when Tom comes back with the police who were invited to this lovely party an hour ago." Frank said.

It didn't seem to affect the madman. "I won't die! I will never die! I am immortal--I am a _God_ in this world of people towering over the helpless! I will right all those wrongs of humanity and start with a new generation! You will all die!" Malpensa laughed.

Frank fired at the man's other shoulder, silencing him. "That was starting to annoy me. If you really value your place at all, you'll decidedly be quiet."

Frank turned to Montmorency and helped him up.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Robert will fix your wound, I'm sure. Please, go downstairs and let me handle this." Montmorency was white-faced and pointing behind him, at Malpensa. "Oh, him? He can't move, Montmorency. It's all right. Please go."

Tom appeared at the doorway, disheveled and clearly distressed at the sight of his father's condition. Dashing his tears of worry away, he helped him to Doctor Farcett, who was finished processing order and ready to attend to his patient, who was slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

Frank sighed, leaning against the doorway and turning an enraged gaze to his captive. Malpensa was still laughing, though now it was murky. He was losing blood. Not enough to kill him yet, but he wouldn't last much longer awake. His finger itched to pull the trigger just _once_ more.

_Please, Uncle George. Help me. I can't shoot him, but Jack is… Jack is saying things so that it sounds perfectly normal to do so. Please, send these people to take him away. I don't want to risk it by killing him. Please…_

Apparently, someone had been listening up there, for armed men in black coats and top hats flooded it. With the click and roll of cuffs being placed, the one seemingly in charge turned to Frank.

"The real police got a bit too tipsy in the street and half of the force got carried away by womenfolk. We're what you refer to as 'plainclothesmen' on a daily basis." The man grinned as if he wasn't part of the team arresting one of the most sought-after men throughout the anti-anarchist forces. His smile dissipated gently. "I think you can let go of that weapon now."

Frank looked down. He was holding it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. It dropped from his grip and he slid down the wall, hanging his head.

"Hey! Are you alright?" The man questioned, fretting slightly.

"Get him out of here. Take him away before I can't take it," Frank said dryly.

He seemed to understand and ushered his troops out.

When the upstairs was finally quiet and he was sure he was alone, Frank burst into tears.

--

"Aah… Thanks for the food, but this reminds of Cook's meal when I was last ill. I'm kind of wishing I could have had that instead," Montmorency said easily, like a purring cat.

"Well, we're not going to order any from London(am I right?) just for it to spoil before it gets here!" Robert laughed, sipping his brandy. Montmorency laughed lightly with him, still aware of the slight throbbing he felt sometimes.

Frank entered the room, and closed the door behind him quietly, pleased to hear the two men being foolhardy once more. He smiled happily at the pair.

"Has Tom been by?" he asked, falling into a chair next to Robert.

"About an hour or so ago," the doctor shrugged.

Frank nodded. "Is he alright? He isn't still staying here too long, right?"

After the Malpensa incident, Tom wouldn't leave his father's hospital room for three days. They finally got him out when Montmorency woke and calmly told him to go take a bath and smile like his father was alive and not six feet under. It had been merely two days since then and Frank was understandably concerned. He turned to Robert, knowing firsthand that he, himself, had had a touch of madness.

"On the contrary, he could have only stayed for 20 minutes. It appears he might have found a lady friend not too far from here." Farcett giggled into his cup. "But how are you faring? You weren't fine yourself at first, either."

"I was just…scared. I nearly lost it. If those men hadn't come when they did…I might have really killed Malpensa by Jack Scarper's hand. It's like he was _right there_. It was as if he were inside me, trying to pull my arm up to shoot. Somehow I didn't, though. I think Uncle George helped me with that, personally."

Montmorency nodded. "Good thing you didn't. He's going through such a heartwarming chapter of turmoil between governments and how his punishment should be executed. Rumors are it's between hanging, life in jail, and there are murmurs of being shot to death by a Calvary. Maybe they'd let you join," he joked.

"Har, har," he said sarcastically, pouring himself his own cup of brandy and sipping. "You know, I'm finding the drink as less and less of a great companion. However, I think we're good acquaintances now," Frank admitted, smirking.

"It would seem so," Montmorency agreed.

"Hello, I would like to see Mr. Montmorency… Please, I understand that, but this is important business!"

A familiar voice drifted up to the trio. Montmorency blinked.

"Is that Mary? Why is she here? How did she find _out_?" he asked.

"I found a letter addressed to her and it only seemed fit to send it, in case there were any strings you wished to tie up." Robert explained cheekily.

Gentle footsteps started up the stairs and Frank and Robert left quickly, before they were seen. Both whispered words of encouragement before exiting and hiding in an open room. They saw Mary gingerly step in. It sounded like she sat on the edge of the bed. For a moment, all was silent, except for the distant clatter of pans as the lunch hour nearly arrived. Then she spoke.

"It seems that I met a man whom I loved, then scorned, then found loving again. However, there was something he kept wedged between us that ceased our lungs to intake air. He removed the blockage and waited to see if it helped the situation at hand in any way. I've had more than my share of deep breaths and I'd like to share them with you. What do you say to my agreement?"

Throughout the whole house, the only thing anyone could hear for ten consecutive minutes was long strings of cheers as happiness flowed stronger than ever between the group. Even those connected who weren't in direct news of the engagement suddenly felt a light flutter in their chest and set out to make preparations for a meet.

--

Hehe--that was fun! I don't really expect anyone to read this, but I can't help getting a happy ending. Eleanor's needed a bit more oomph! to me, so I felt the urge to add. If anyone approves of my version, drop me a review, okay? Thanks so much for reading! Bye!

Now satisfied:

Porcelain-Carrier-67


End file.
